


The Windrunner's Rivercourse

by Hyperionova



Series: The Windrunner Series [2]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fictional college, Forbidden Love, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Jaehyun and Jaejoong are rivals, M/M, Mean Jaejoong, Religion, Religious Conflict, Spinoff, Yeah lots of em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14408295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyperionova/pseuds/Hyperionova
Summary: Taeyong, a pagan, a peasant. Soft-spoken, smart, ambitious. Jaehyun, a Christian, a noble's son. Arrogant, debauched, determined. As love blooms between them, religion and social strata pull them apart. A dangerous game they play, for that, if discovered, they'd both face punishments neither would be ready for.





	1. PROLOGUE

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second NCT fic yippeee! Thank you for reading it and leaving comments and kudos!  
> Other notes: This story is fictional, inspired by the Wode Series by J Tullos Hennig. Contents of the story are not intended to slight any religion. It is simply a love story.  
> Read its parent work too (The Windrunner's Startrail)

He tried to not to make too much out of a simple gesture of kindness. Politeness if not even that. But there it was, the homesickness. He had become a victim to it as soon as he had left Madshire in the hackney coach the church had paid for. It was small, enough to fit a man and a trunk. Not that Taeyong needed anything bigger, anyway. He owned two pairs of tunic and trousers, three pairs of braies, and a few books. Just riding in the hackney coach was exciting for that no one in his family had ever been able to afford one.

“So, are you coming or are ya pondering about fleeing already?” said the tall, pale-skinned lad, with an edge to his voice. Arrogance, perhaps. The school uniform hugged his broad shoulders like it had been tailored just for them. It most likely was. Taeyong must be the only one here in handed-down uniforms, provided graciously by the church.

Evershall Academy. It was every young scholar’s dream destination. No, it was perhaps the journey itself. Taeyong drew in a few breaths, inhaling the warm, sultry air of Evershall, savouring the smell of earth and grass the wind swam with. He looked up at the towers. Magical, he thought. As a child, he had heard plenty from the local preceptors about how only the most intelligent could ever set their foot in this college. That was not the only condition. Up until today, only noble-bred men were admitted to this institution to pursue their mastership.

It was a big deal. All in Madshire had celebrated Taeyong’s departure. He’d be the first non-noble from Madshire to ever go to college.

It left him with both delight and dread.

He curbed the apprehension and tried not to show it in his mien as he followed the student.

The lad came to a halt, turned around, and pinned Taeyong with a ridiculous look. Taeyong stopped in his tracks nervously.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” the lad asked, jerking his chin over Taeyong’s shoulder.

Glancing back, Taeyong realized that he had left his trunk behind. Feeling almost utterly stupid, he hurried to grab his luggage and lugged it back to the student, who was assigned to welcome him and guide him to his dorm room.

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong said as the other lad rolled his eyes and started towards a tower. “A little nervous is all.” He chuckled nervously. “Though I know I have no reason to be.”

“Oh, you do,” the lad said calmly, strutting ahead.

Taeyong frowned, bit the inside of his cheek, and sighed. He wondered which noble’s son this man was. He was tempted to ask. But he knew better than to poke his nose somewhere it did not belong.

He dragged his trunk up the stairs, surveying the scriptures engraved to the walls. They seemed fairly new engravements. He looked up at the other student, who ascended the stairs lazily with his hands stuck in the pockets of his pants. He appeared to be bored and disinterested, as though this were some menial task he would not profit from. Well, it wasn’t. And he hadn’t called Taeyong names or insulted Taeyong’s entire lineage yet. So, that was something.

“What’s your name?”

The question took Taeyong aback. He stuttered for a moment, gaping at the taller, possibly older lad, who stopped to look back at Taeyong when he received no answer.

“Uh… Taeyong of Madshire,” Taeyong said.

“I know where you’re from,” the lad scoffed and proceeded up the stairs. It sounded like an insult.

“And you are?” Taeyong asked shyly.

“My Lord, Handsome Upperclassman, Your Highness, Women’s Lover, My Strapping Hero. Take your pick,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

Taeyong grimaced at him. He took it all back. This lad was nowhere near kind or polite. He was an arrogant prick like all other nobility.

When they reached the top floor, they were stopped by a couple of students, who greeted the upperclassman with a rough embrace. “Jaehyun, who’s this?” one of them inquired. He was blond, just as tall as his companion, had a much more pleasant face than the prick. Jaehyun.

“The famous new arrival,” said the upperclassman, rolling his eyes.

The other two gasped in unison. “The peasant from Madshire,” the lad muttered as if Taeyong was out of earshot. Then making faces, they strolled away, as though they had seen a ghost.

Terrific, Taeyong thought. He had just arrived, and he was already the most loathed person in Evershall.

“Here,” the upperclassman said, directing Taeyong towards the door at the end of the hallway. He accompanied Taeyong to the room and prised the door open before leaning against the doorframe.

Taeyong tried to keep his eyes from wandering to the silver cross resting against Jaehyun’s chest that was exposed by his half-unlaced shirt. He failed and only looked away when the upperclassman cocked a curious eyebrow at him, catching Taeyong staring at the cross hanging on the silver chain around Jaehyun’s neck.

“Dinner’s on the 17th bell in the Feast Hall. Be late and you’ll go to bed hungry.”

Taeyong frowned at him. “Where’s the Feast Hall?”

Jaehyun was already walking away. Taeyong heaved a sigh and turned to stare at the cross painted on the door.

He knew what accepting the scholarship from the church entailed. He was being coaxed to convert, to accept the Christian teachings. And with him, the belief would spread to his family and the rest of Madshire. The church would get rid of another “clan” of heathens. The bursary from the church was nothing more than a propaganda, which Taeyong’s brother believed Taeyong would fall for.

He entered the room and found two beds. One made, slept in. The other near the window was bare, with folded sheets at the foot of it. Trepidation took over his nerves. He would be rooming with a Christian noble’s son and he wasn’t sure how ardent his roommate’s hatred might be towards pagans and peasants.

He could only wait and find out. He was not backing out now. This had been a dream he never knew was possible of achieving. While his brother and sister monkeyed around with bows and arrows in the woods, Taeyong had his nose buried in books his mother had borrowed from the mesne lord she worked for. Taeyong would become the first scholar from Madshire and he’d die to see himself through the process.

He was a few days late since the semester had started. He assumed that his roommate was in the same class as him for that there were still unpacked trunks laying about. A Bible was squeezed between piles of papers on the desk.

Once he was done unpacking and making his bed, he plumped unceremoniously on it and planted his face in his hands. When would his roommate return? How should he introduce himself?

_I am Taeyong of Madshire. Peasant. Pagan. Dirty. Everything you Christians hate._

He should not jump to conclusions and judge someone he hadn’t even met. Perhaps his roommate would not be so bad. Although Taeyong hadn’t heard of many Christian noble-bred men hobnobbing and befriending pagan peasants.

The bell pealed and Taeyong jumped with a start. His heart almost leaped out his chest when the door swung open and a lean, brown-haired lad burst in. Taeyong rose to his feet at once and offered a friendly smile, which was answered with a disgusted and horrified moue. The lad’s eyes widened in horror. He looked awfully familiar but Taeyong just couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Hullo,” Taeyong said apprehensively. “I’m Taeyong of—” He didn’t get to finish as his roommate slammed the door shut behind him as he stormed off.

With a sinking heart, Taeyong dropped back to his seat.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Before the unfortunate events of the Vingaild Supper…_

Sehun of Vingaild. The name and the familiarity came to him as he exited the bathroom after cleaning himself up with cold water and lye soap. It struck him dumb for a moment.

 _It can’t be_ , he mused to himself, extracting his uniform shirt from the trunk. He wasn’t sure what astounded him more. The fact that he would be rooming with the son of the Earl of Vingaild his parents had been serving for many years or the fact that Sehun was clearly appalled to have found Taeyong in his room earlier. He had met Sehun only once when the latter visited Madshire, bearing the earl’s missive to Taeyong’s mother, who used to be the earl’s head cook before she was dismissed for being a heathen. His father’s fate was no different.

The lad had seemed kind, unlike other noblemen. Perhaps Taeyong’s judgment had been wide off the mark. Perhaps all noblemen were the same after all. They trampled on peasants, treated them with disdain and had no care for them. But Taeyong was not only a peasant. He was also a pagan. That was mud against mud. Sehun had every reason to scorn him.

He heard the 17th bell peal and leered out the window, buttoning his shirt up. The bell tower was the tallest building in Evershall, overlooking the rest of the lavish city. Evershall Academy was located away a few stones from the capital and was surrounded by layers of trees. Evershall was nothing like Madshire. It wasn’t small or insignificant. It wasn’t mired in poverty and discomforting mugginess. The air did not smell foul, stained with the stench of horse shit. Everything about Evershall and Evershall Academy had his heart going. The darkening sky stretched for as far as his vision could stretch, dusted with faintly glimmering stars. Buildings beyond the trees looked small from here but there were many. Taeyong hoped to visit the capital soon.

The sight alone snatched his breath away. The ride here had been magical. Never had he ever imagined that he would be realizing his dreams. Even as a child, he had harboured a desire to leave Madshire for good, although his parents had told him that there was no place safer than home. Taeyong wasn’t sure Madshire was his home because nobody would foster such mad desires to _leave_ home, right? Then as he grew older, he wanted to see what the rest of the world had to offer. What sort of adventures lay beyond the forests of Madshire and the roads of Vingaild. But he did not possess the luxuries to leave Madshire and go see the world until now. His only window to the world away from Madshire had been through books and knowledge. People of Madshire thought him silly for reading. His nescient brother, Kai had once said that the only good those books would do Taeyong was if they contained knowledge about how to stick his hand into a woman’s kirtle. Funnily enough, Taeyong had once read a book on such obscenities, too. Not deliberately. His mother had brought him the book unknowingly. Sehun’s father, Lord Grant used to lend his mother the books Taeyong had grown up reading. Did Sehun know that?

Did Sehun even recognize Taeyong at all? Taeyong doubted it but it was a possibility.

He pulled his maroon blazer out of the trunk and frowned at the oversized article of clothing. Well, he was not here to look sharp. He was here to study. The last thing he was concerned with was his looks.

He then picked up the necktie and stared at it nervously. It had both the maroon of the blazer and the black of the trousers. The colours of Evershall Academy. He had no clue how to tie it. He knew it went around the neck in a knot, but he also knew the knot was more than just a knot. He’d never had to wear a necktie much less tie one. If Kai found that Taeyong was now one of those toffee-nosed, necktie-wearing lads, he’d laugh to the exhaustion of his soul. But then again, Kai was a crass oaf with no regard for civility. Taeyong, on the other hand, would like to eradicate everything about him that spelled Madshire.

But peasants did not wear _neckties._ He would be a joke not only to the nobilities but also to the people of Madshire.

“I’ll figure this out later,” he muttered to himself and stuffed the necktie in the pocket of his trousers. Once making sure that he had made his bed and put his belongings away in his own wardrobe, he stepped out of the room.

At the bottom of the staircase, he found groups of students heading towards the Feast Hall and decided to follow them quietly. They paid him no heed as they were engaged in a conversation about the approaching autumn tournament. Taeyong had no idea what the tournament was about, and he tried to divert his attention so that he would not be overhearing their conversations.

Some students stopped to gawk at him as he passed the corridors. He kept his head low, his shaking hands in the pockets of his blazer.

“Is that him?” he heard someone say. Not exactly a whisper.

“Look at him. It has to be,” another replied.

The corridors were crowding with students. Many were perched on the balustrades. Taeyong tried not to stare at any of them for too long. None of the lads looked like the lads in Madshire. Taeyong must be the scrawniest boy here. Why was he even comparing himself to sons of noblemen and women? They were bred with golds and silvers, villeins and serfs, meats and wines. Peasants like Taeyong lived on what grew in their garden and the mercy of these strapping, dignified lads’ fathers and forefathers.

Most of them wore a cross around their necks, Taeyong noticed. As he approached the Feast Hall, the smell of fresh and warm bread filled the air along with a few other scents he was unfamiliar with. But whatever they were, they smelled wonderful. His stomach growled. He hadn’t had a decent meal in days.

He came to a halt, however, when he walked past a vandalized wall. He grimaced with his insides twisting as he read the vulgarities scrawled on the wall with ink.

**_Gracraes. Cocksucker. Sinner. May the Hellfire burn your filthy soul._ **

It lurched his stomach. Why hadn’t anyone removed such expletives from a school wall? And who was Gracraes?

“Don’t stare at it for too long.”

Taeyong turned around to find a honey-haired lad standing behind him with a stern look on his face. Taeyong cleared his throat before speaking. “I—”

“They left it there to be a reminder,” the lad said, looking at the wall instead of Taeyong.

“Who is… Gracraes?” Taeyong asked.

The lad lowered his eyes and met Taeyong’s. He was mum for a moment before he started to walk away with his hands in the pockets of his pants. “An unfortunate story.”

Taeyong exhaled heavily. As he started for the Feast Hall again, he felt his heart drum against his chest. He wasn’t sure if it were excitement or disquiet. The latter, most likely. People were staring at him. They were talking about him. The peasant heathen in an institute backed up by the church. And just like that, disquiet turned to dread.

How was he supposed to survive four years at Evershall Academy? Would he make friends? Would any nobility even want to be friends with a peasant? Everyone here hated him and his kind. These were _lords_ , men Taeyong was supposed to serve at their feet. Not sit and eat at a table with them as their equal.

He stopped at the entrance of the Feast Hall, frozen. His breaths came out short and trembling as he surveyed the throngs of students swarming the tables and benches. He wanted to turn around and head back to his room. He still had a few dried figs and bamble tree nuts in his trunk. They would sate his hunger for the night.

 _This is cowardice_ , he thought. And impractical. He could not avoid this forever. If not tonight, then tomorrow.

“Move,” someone growled from behind and Taeyong jumped aside, letting the tall, large lad enter the Feast Hall with a grouchy scowl etched on his bushy eyebrows. He snarled at Taeyong as he proceeded towards a table.

Taeyong sucked in a breath. _I can do this._

He looked for an empty table. None. But he spotted a table occupied by just two lads. _This’ll have to do._

When he approached the table, the two lads paused mid-conversation and rubbernecked at Taeyong.

“May I… sit here?” Taeyong asked in a voice so quiet and shy that even he barely heard it in the cacophony of the hall.

The lads said nothing and looked away.

Taeyong frowned to himself as he took a small seat at the farthest edge of the bench. He grabbed a plate from the table and mustered all the foods that were laid before him. Baked potatoes with herbs, fresh loaves of bread, slabs of tender, juicy meat smothered in butter and some kind of gravy, the greenest peas he’d ever seen alongside roasted figs, tiny cherry pies, and orange cakes. His stomach filled just from looking at the food.

This was a feast indeed. Was it a special occasion today? That was ridiculous. These were foods fit for noblemen. For a peasant, however, this was paradise. Taeyong was overwrought with guilt then as his mouth watered. He had never eaten food like this, mantled in butter, bathing in richness. And he wasn’t sure he should.

He reached out for a slice of bread. He had only eaten butter twice in his life and that was when his mother had brought home the leftovers from the Vingaild manor. He still remembered the divineness of the silky creaminess melting on his tongue.

He took a bite into the soft, doughy bread. It was warm. He chewed carefully, side-eyeing the other two lads at the table. They were staring at him. Taeyong turned his gaze away, eyes rifling through the crowded hall. He eventually spotted Sehun.

Sehun was sitting with the upperclassman who had welcomed Taeyong earlier. Jaehyun. There were three other lads sitting with them. He froze when Jaehyun’s eyes found his and the upperclassman smirked at him. Taeyong swallowed and quickly dropped his gaze. It was a strange feeling. He had been wanting to leave home for as long as he could remember but right now, he wanted nothing more than to return to his small cottage back in Madshire and curl up in his mother’s embrace.

The misery was thick in his throat. _It’s just homesickness. It’ll pass_ , he tried to convince himself as he tore into the bread again.

“Let’s just go,” one of the two lads at his table grumbled before they shot up to their feet and stomped away, glowering at Taeyong spitefully.

Taeyong lowered his head again, now sitting alone at the table. Eyes were on him. People were talking about him. Most did not care if he heard them or not. A sob rose in his throat and he sighed.

Grabbing another slice of bread, he picked himself up and stormed out of the Feast Hall. He found a quiet, abandoned corridor at the back of a tower and seated himself on the ground, leaning against a wall. How would he ever fit in here?

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled to himself and picked at the crusts of the bread. “You’re not here to make friends.”

But he wanted to. Be friends with the noblemen sons. With the Christians. He no longer wanted to be the peasant boy from Madshire.

“Do you often talk to yourself?”

Taeyong almost jumped up with a start as he glanced at Jaehyun, who was walking towards him. “Uh…”

Jaehyun took note of the bread in Taeyong’s hand and smiled. “Have a small appetite?”

 _What is he doing,_ Taeyong wondered. Why was this nobleman son talking to him?

“I didn’t see you eat much at the hall either,” said Jaehyun, leaning his back against the wall beside Taeyong.

Taeyong gawked at him for a moment. “I…” He looked down at the bread. “It’s more than what I would have had if I were back home,” he muttered.

Jaehyun nodded, as though he understood. They looked away from each other and Taeyong nervously clenched a hand around his blazer.

They then sat in silence for a stretch until Jaehyun decided to break it by whistling a gentle tune that matched the howl of the wind.

Then without another word, Jaehyun walked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

When the 18th bell tolled, Taeyong retreated to his room, deciding to call it a day. He had classes early in the morning tomorrow. He wanted to be fresh to make a good impression for the professors.

He stopped in the doorway when he found Sehun, who raised his head to look at Taeyong with a scornful lour.

Taeyong closed the door behind him and swallowed hard before saying, “You’re… Sehun of Vingaild, aren’t you?”

Sehun did not reply. He glanced away, gripping his jaw.

“I’m Taeyong… of Madshire,” Taeyong said. Perhaps Sehun would warm up to him if he knew and remembered who Taeyong was. His mother did tell him that Sehun was fond of her. “I’m not sure if you remember. My mother used to work for your—”

“I do not care who your mother used to work for,” Sehun cut him off harshly as he shot up from his bed and removed his shirt. “I’d prefer that you don’t talk to me at all.”

Taeyong frowned. He was taught to never question the nobilities. It landed peasants like him in nothing but trouble. And he wanted no trouble at Evershall Academy, where he had come to learn. So, he bowed his head and beat a hasty retreat to his bed.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks passed with uneventful days. Taeyong was excited for most of his classes in the morning and participated in all of them actively enough to have left a good impression on his teachers. He did not particularly enjoy the Biblical class.  It was not that he did not find the lessons interesting, he did. But it was not a class he could excel at naturally, especially when everyone else in that class was a Christian. Earlier this week, a classmate had even made a comment about why Taeyong was in that class in the first place, to which the professor had replied with a blatant, “I don’t know.”

Apart from the classes, there had not been much progress. Taeyong had not made friends. No one talked to him either. It was fine. He was here to pursue his mastership and bring great honour to the people of Madshire and his family. He was not here to make friends. But knowing all that did not make his loneliness any sweeter. As the days crawled by, the homesickness grew.

“Good morning,” Master Cay said sternly, his weathered yet sharp eyes surveying his pupils in the dojo. Taeyong was barely on the tip of his toes, brimming with excitement. Before today, the combat class was all about the theories in the textbooks. From today, they would get to practise with real swords in the dojo. It had Taeyong’s heart leaping.

Taeyong glanced around the closed training arena. _Oriental_ , he thought.

“A bunch of string beans you are,” Master Cay commented grouchily. “But hopefully, you will have learned your way with a sword by the time you’re done here at Evershall Academy.”

The doors of the dojo swung open all of a sudden and all eyes turned to the group of upperclassmen who strode in, looking smug and pretentiously complacent. Taeyong spotted the honey-haired lad, whose name he had not learned. At his side Jaehyun winked in Sehun’s way with a smirk. Kyungsoo, one of Sehun’s friends, waved at Jaehyun. It was a strange mix of people to be friends, Taeyong thought. Sehun was more reserved than both Kyungsoo and Jaehyun. Kyungsoo was fanatic about his religion. In Biblical, he was always the first to raise a hand, both to name a question and an answer. Taeyong did not know much about Jaehyun yet. But he rarely hung out with the other upperclassmen during mealtimes. He was also rarely around.

As the upperclassmen wended their way towards the weapon racks, Master Cay cleared his throat.

“These are few of the best swordsmen Evershall Academy has had the honour of priming,” said Master Cay. The upperclassmen took their positions at the instructor’s sides after grabbing a sword each. “Yuta of Harveton,” he introduced the honey-haired lad. Yuta, Taeyong tried to remember the name as Master Cay continued to introduce the rest of the seven upperclassmen. “Jaehyun of Saltbury.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened. Saltbury. It was one of the richest, most lavish counties in Dornwich. The King’s private summerhouse was located in Saltbury. It was also the first county to have been Christianised entirely. Not a single heathen left. And not to mention everyone from Saltbury was both rich and influential. On top of all that, Jaehyun was a nobleman’s son, no doubt in that. For a noble from Saltbury, Jaehyun was… eccentric, to say the least. Taeyong would have expected the Saltbury people to be dressed in silk and gold, speaking in high tones at all times.

“My best students,” Master Cay boasted. “And they will be mentoring you for the next couple of weeks, preparing you for the real training. This class is not like your other classes. This class prepares you for the real world. Not just to sweet-talk your strumpets in your beds. Although in my experience, strumpets do tend to love a man with a longsword.”

Laughter wove through the crowd. The upperclassmen smirked at each other. Taeyong kept his lips pursed. He wanted to impress Master Cay, too. He wanted to become one of his best students.

“Pick your mentees and get started,” Master Cay then ordered the upperclassmen.

“I’ll take the four on this side,” Jaehyun said, jerking his chin towards the group Taeyong was standing in. It somehow came as a relief to Taeyong. He at least knew Jaehyun.

Sehun and Kyungsoo were in the group Yuta agreed to mentor.

Taeyong tore his gaze from them and fixed it on Jaehyun, who approached him. Then he quickly averted it when Jaehyun began to undress. _What is he doing,_ Taeyong thought nervously, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. Jaehyun kept his eyes on Taeyong as he removed his necktie and started unlacing his shirt. Then discarding them both to the nearest table, he picked up his sword.

Taeyong blinked at Jaehyun’s back muscles. The man was lean but not scrawny. He had the body of a swordsman. Lithe, agile, toned. Jaehyun was pale, however. And quite tall. When he turned around, Taeyong let his eyes wander briefly to the silver chain around Jaehyun’s neck and the cross resting in the cleft of his toned chest. As his eyes skidded lower, they stared at the solid muscles of Jaehyun’s abdomen and the thin trail of hair beneath his navel which disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Taeyong immediately looked away then.

“What are your names?” he asked in a dull voice.

“Chris of Flore,” said one.

“Naveen of Karnof,” said another.

“Delan of Vingaild.”

Jaehyun tilted his head and stared at Taeyong. “And you?”

Taeyong swallowed before talking. He kept his eyes deliberately low. “Taeyong… of Madshire.”

He heard someone snort. Probably Delan.

Jaehyun smiled cockily. Taeyong almost scowled at him.

“Do you know what this is?” Jaehyun asked, holding the sword up and brandishing it.

Taeyong started to scowl.

“I asked you a question, tenderfoot,” Jaehyun said with a heavy and impatient sigh.

Taeyong gripped his jaw. “A sword.”

“A sword.” Jaehyun scoffed and the others chuckled. “Does it seem any different to you than a shovel?”

Taeyong clenched his fists at his back. Then with a sharp breath, he spat, “It’s a two-handed Highland claymore, double-edged blade and a two-handed cruciform hilt with pommel approximately five pounds and fifty inches in build.”

Jaehyun did not look provoked and if he were surprised, he did not show it. In fact, he stared at Taeyong with a slight hint of smile on one of the corners of his lips.

“Well, it knows how to win with its mouth,” Jaehyun snorted. “Let’s see you do it with a sword then, shall we?” He flipped the sword and grabbed the blade, holding the hilt out to Taeyong.

After a moment of hesitation, Taeyong curled his fingers around the grip of the sword and accepted it. He had spent enough time around smiths and grindstones in Madshire to know how to hold a sword. But his family always worked better with an arrow and a bow.

“All of you. Fetch a sword,” Jaehyun ordered the rest. He then moved around Taeyong, observing his grip as though to evaluate it.

Taeyong could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Delan, Chris, and Naveen held their swords like they were born with them. It looked like it came naturally to them. Of course, it would. They would have grown up training with personal instructors. Which meant Taeyong was once again the runt of the group.

“First lesson of swordplay,” Jaehyun said as he stood before Taeyong again.  Taeyong almost blenched and shuddered when Jaehyun wrapped a hand around the grip on top of Taeyong’s hands. He looked up at Jaehyun. “Don’t grip it like you’re trying to strangle it. Loosen your grip. Treat it as if it’s one of your limbs.”

He retrieved his hand and waited for Taeyong to loosen his. “That doesn’t sound very logical,” Taeyong said. “I cannot just treat a blade like it’s one of my arms.”

Jaehyun looked slightly taken aback by the counter. “Naveen, step forward,” he said at length, keeping his eyes on Taeyong. When Naveen approached him, he said, “Take a swing at me.”

Naveen hesitated. “You don’t have a sword.”

“Just swing,” Jaehyun grumbled.

The swing came with a speed that Taeyong’s eyes almost missed and he barely realized it when Jaehyun plucked the sword out of Taeyong’s hands and blocked Naveen’s attack with a graceful swing before striking the opponent’s blade and disarmed him. Taeyong gaped at Jaehyun in awe. He moved effortlessly. Gracefully. It almost looked like dancing.

“See, smart mouth,” Jaehyun spat, handing Taeyong the sword back. “If it had been your limb, you wouldn’t have lost it so easily.”

Taeyong felt the blood rush to his cheeks, fostering an embarrassment he hadn’t experienced before. It was strange. It felt as though he had disappointed someone _important_.

“Take turns to practise your swing,” Jaehyun ordered the others. “You,” he then said to Taeyong. “have a lot of work to do.”

Taeyong took a deep breath and tried to grip the sword right this time. Loose but firm enough to not to let it slip.

“You cannot battle with your legs closed,” Jaehyun said in a voice that sounded too sultry for Taeyong to take it seriously. He froze anxiously as Jaehyun moved to stand behind him. He then kicked Taeyong’s ankles apart.

“What are… you… doing?” Taeyong stuttered in a low voice, turning his head only halfway around.

He felt Jaehyun lean in and his hot breath stroke the back of his neck. “Spreading your legs,” Jaehyun muttered.

Taeyong was speechless. _He’s just messing with you._

“Straighten up,” Jaehyun said, curling a hand over the crook of Taeyong’s neck where it met his shoulder and pressed his other hand on the small of Taeyong’s back, arching it forward. “Shouldn’t bend for your opponent… unless if it’s in bed, of course.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes. Was this what Master Cay had been teaching his _best students_?

It still felt strange to have another man’s hands pressed against parts of his body that no one had touched so intimately before. It seemed both dangerous and confusing.

Jaehyun took a step away from Taeyong. “Have you never wielded a sword?” he asked.

Taeyong turned around to face the man. “Peasants have no business wielding a sword,” he replied.

“Peasants have no business reading a book either and yet here you are,” Jaehyun said and Taeyong glowered, grinding his teeth. “Quite daunting of you to try to be one of us.”

“I don’t want to be one of you,” Taeyong hissed, lunging at him with the sword. Jaehyun easily dodged the blow by stepping aside.

He smirked. “Liar,” he scoffed. “All of you peasants want to be one of us.”

Taeyong swung again but this time Jaehyun grabbed Naveen by the back of his neck and yanked him forward to confront Taeyong instead. Naveen got his sword up just in time to block the blow. It disarmed Taeyong and sent his sword to the ground.

“Good reflex,” Jaehyun commended Naveen, who grinned proudly. “That’s what happens when you treat your sword like a limb.” That was shot towards Taeyong. “And when you heed your seniors.”

All this while, Taeyong had mistaken Jaehyun’s nonchalance for a shortcoming. It wasn’t nonchalance at all. It was authoritativeness masked with composure.

Jaehyun closed the distance between them. “Try smart-mouthing again and I’ll cut your tongue out,” he warned in a low murmur.

 

* * *

 

Taeyong lifted his head from where he sat at his desk, preparing for tomorrow’s classes, and glanced out the window, into the darkness when the 22nd bell tolled. The waxing moon was bright tonight, accompanied by clusters of glimmering stars.

Sehun was already in bed, but Taeyong knew he was still awake. Three weeks at Evershall Academy, and Sehun still refused to talk to Taeyong.

Taeyong turned his chair and looked at Sehun, who had an arm draped over his eyes. He licked his lips and heaved a breath.

“Sehun?” he called quietly.

Sehun withdrew the arm from his face and cracked an eye open to look at Taeyong. He then scowled.

“Sehun,” Taeyong sighed. “Look. I know that… like everyone else… you don’t want me here. You don’t like me. I’m a… peasant. A pagan. I understand. But my mother said that… you were different. Unless she was wrong… I’d like to know what about me that makes you hate me so much?”

Sehun sat up. He was silent for a length. “Definitely not because you’re a pagan peasant.” With just that, he fell back on his bed and closed his eyes again.

Frowning, Taeyong rose from the desk and pulled his shoes on. He then hurried out of the room and headed downstairs for some air.

He would write his family a letter soon, he thought as he wandered through the dark corridors. He would tell them that he was doing great and he was happy. He would tell them that he missed them. But the people here were really nice to him that he didn’t miss them too much. He wasn’t good at lying, that was Kai’s area of expertise, but he would have to at least try so that he would not be worrying his family.

He pottered slowly along the hallways until he reached the darkest corner of the back of a corridor where he finally broke into a silent sob into his hands. It served him right. For wanting to leave his family, his home so badly. He would never fit in here. Because no matter how much he tried to become one of them, he would always be a peasant.

He stopped his sobs abruptly when he heard a jumble of voices in the corridor. He moved to hide behind a wall and peer at the upperclassmen wobbling through the corridor, whistling drunk tunes and giggling about women.

“She fucked so good,” said someone Taeyong did not recognize. But he did recognize the lad tagging along at the back, looking like he had not had a single wink in days.

“Master Cay really brought us to the best brothel with the best whores this time.”

“The blonde one was fantastic. Exotic, wasn’t she?”

Jaehyun’s hair a tousled mess, his uniform was creased and crumpled, his cheeks were crimson red and so were his eyes.

“You go ahead,” he told the rest of the staggering group. “I need to piss.”

No one tried to stop Jaehyun as he meandered away to the back of the corridor. Taeyong remained in the shadows silently, watching Jaehyun totter over to a tree, unlacing his pants. He then looked away. Were they away from the academy? How? Master Cay took them?

Once Jaehyun was done, he teetered drunkenly to another wall and slumped his back against it, exhaling loud and heavily. He rested his head back and closed his eyes. Taeyong watched his chest rise and fall steadily.

“Fuck. How long are you going to stand there and watch?” Jaehyun then spat all of a sudden without opening his eyes.

Taeyong turned with a start, ready to run away, but he didn’t. He looked back at Jaehyun and bit his lip. Jaehyun was his upperclassman after all. And one of the very few people here who probably didn’t want Taeyong dead.

So, he ambled over to Jaehyun, clammy hands balled into nervous fists.

He smelled the rich stench of wine and women perfume several feet away from Jaehyun. It was an awful smell.

“You’re… drunk?” Taeyong asked shyly.

Jaehyun opened his eyes and looked down at Taeyong. “What do you think?” he drawled.

“Do you… need help?” Taeyong wasn’t sure if he could drag Jaehyun’s weight all the way up the stairs but he could maybe fetch some water or something if that was what Jaehyun needed.

Jaehyun was quiet then. His dark, red eyes were fixated on Taeyong for a long moment. Taeyong noticed Jaehyun’s breathing quicken. Jaehyun parted his lips and leered down to Taeyong’s mouth.

“Actually,” he let out at length. “yes.”

Taeyong licked his lips. “Um… What do you need me to do?”

Jaehyun brought a hand to the front of his pants that were still unlaced. He twirled a finger around one of the laces and raised the other hand to the back of Taeyong’s neck.

Taeyong stilled and stiffened, eyes bulging out.

“I need you to get down on your knees,” Jaehyun whispered, fingers rifling through Taeyong’s hair at the nape of his neck. The seduction in Jaehyun’s voice must have been whetted with years of training. Like every other noble Christians, he did not seem like a man who’d take no for an answer. But that wasn’t why Taeyong was lowering down to his knees before he even knew it.

A shiver ran down his spine. His mouth was dry. Jaehyun kept a hand gently stroking Taeyong’s hair as he slid the other into his pants. The bulge was hard to miss. What was happening, Taeyong thought in a hazy confusion. His eyelids were falling heavy. He was the one who was feeling drunk right now.

And just like that, his loneliness vanished. The sickening thought of being an outcast forever forsook him momentarily.  


	4. Chapter 4

Taeyong kept his eyes on Jaehyun’s as the older lad cupped his chin, thumb stroking a corner of Taeyong’s mouth before it slid across the seam of the lips, parting them open.

A shuddery breath escaped them and caressed Jaehyun’s thumb that breached the lightly chattering teeth. He smiled down at Taeyong. Then tugging at the loosened laces of his pants, he took his arching, swollen shaft into his hand.

Taeyong felt his heart thundering against his ribs as he stared at the leaking slit, Jaehyun’s strong hand wrapped around the pulsing, thick veined shaft. The head of the swollen member was pink with hints of purple, the slit glistening with pre-come. Taeyong looked up at the man in mesmerisation, mouth open, jaw slack, breathing shallow.

The wind carded through Taeyong’s hair just as softly as Jaehyun’s fingers. Taeyong raised his hands to the taller lad’s thighs, keeping his eyes fixated on Jaehyun’s flushed face.

While his one hand slowly tightened around Taeyong’s hair, the other began to stroke his erection. A soft groan escaped Jaehyun’s throat as he leaned his head back against the wall, eyes clenched tight.

“Fuck,” Jaehyun swore under his ragged breath, pumping his cock harder in his hand. Taeyong watched him in fascination, unsure of what else to do. Jaehyun kept a firm fist planted in Taeyong’s hair, preventing him from pulling back or pushing forth. His frenzied, entranced gaze travelled from Jaehyun’s panting lips to the bobbing Adam’s apple of his throat, the hollow collarbones, the sloppily unlaced shirt that showcased the deep cleft of the sternum of his chest, the silver cross resting against it, all the way down to the trail of hair below his navel.

He was simply _beautiful_.

“Who’s there?” came a voice out of nowhere, echoing through the corridor.

“Shit,” Jaehyun hissed as his eyes flung open and Taeyong jolted up to his feet. After pulling his pants up, Jaehyun clasped a hand over Taeyong’s mouth, yanking him into the darkness of the corner on the other side of the wall.

Taeyong gasped for breath, his heart almost leaping out of his chest. Forcing his hand against Taeyong’s mouth, Jaehyun pressed a forefinger to his own lips. “Shh,” he told Taeyong, staring into his eyes for a moment before he tilted his head to peer at the patrolling warden.

“It’s the caretaker,” he whispered, glaring at the warden, who was surveying the area.

Taeyong tried to calm his breathing, but Jaehyun’s sweaty chest heaving against his own and the hard knob that was poking into his thigh were not helping.

“Be quiet,” the upperclassman snapped silently when Taeyong sucked in a deep breath. He turned to Taeyong again and caught him staring at his lips relentlessly. Jaehyun’s eyebrows then furrowed in a frown. His free hand then lifted to curl around Taeyong’s wrist. Taking hold of it gently, he guided Taeyong’s hand to crotch.

Taeyong shut his eyes, lips parting to pant against Jaehyun’s palm. His hand, however, knew exactly what to find. Jaehyun pulled his hand away from Taeyong’s and raised it to the wall Taeyong was pressed against when Taeyong had slid his hand into Jaehyun’s pants.

He wrapped his fingers around the hardened cock and gritted his teeth. As he slowly began to stroke it, Jaehyun’s breathing quickened. He fisted his hand on the wall tightly and dropped his hand from Taeyong’s face to grip Taeyong’s wrist.

“Faster,” he exhaled shakily into Taeyong’s ear, panting hard against a side of his face.

Taeyong choked back on his own moan as he felt himself hardening viciously. Jaehyun gasped and dropped his face on Taeyong’s shoulder, grip tightening mercilessly around Taeyong’s wrist.

“Jesus,” Taeyong heard the warden say before he walked away from the corridor.

“Shit, ah,” Jaehyun grunted, body arching into Taeyong’s as he spilled into Taeyong’s hand.

Taeyong waited for Jaehyun to catch his breath and recompose himself before he withdrew his hand from Jaehyun’s pants. He paused to stare at the thick semen staining his fingers. He then looked up at Jaehyun who started to pull back and lace up his pants, still seeming a little out of breath. Taeyong leered at the sweat beads trickling down the older lad’s neck.

It wasn’t until Jaehyun scowled at him with something like annoyance and disgust did Taeyong’s hands began to shiver. He took a step back as Jaehyun closed the distance between them again. Trapped between the wall and Jaehyun, Taeyong looked away, staring at the ground.

“So,” Jaehyun let out, mouth so close to Taeyong’s that Taeyong could feel his breath. “you’re a cocksucker, huh?”

Taeyong’s eyes flitted to Jaehyun’s at once. He blinked in confusion, and then at apprehension. He could not muster the courage to open his mouth and defend himself. He did not even know what he’d say.

_Sweet Lady, what have I done?_

This was bad. This was so bad.

“All you heathens are, aren’t you? You’d bend for whoever that offers.” Jaehyun scoffed and pulled back. With that wounding remark, he strode away.

Taeyong slumped back against the wall and breathed hard. That was stupid. That was beyond stupid! How could he let himself do something that could have him rusticated from the school? Or worse, expelled! Punished! What disgrace he would bring his family, the people of Madshire!

He slid down the wall and hugged his knees to his chest, eyes brimming with tears. He tried to focus on his breathing. He looked at the semen drying on his hand and clenched his fists furiously.

Shooting up to his feet, he raced up to his room. Without bothering to be quiet for Sehun, who was asleep, he bolted into the bathroom and rinsed his hands violently, tears streaming down his cheeks.

This was what noble-bred Christians did, didn’t they? Kai had warned him. He had warned Taeyong what sort of monsters the upper-class Christians were. Instead of heeding him, Taeyong wanted to become one of them! How comical…

Once he was convinced that he had erased every trace of what had just happened from his hands, he stepped out of the bathroom and wiped his cheeks on the sleeves of his shirt. Only after a moment did he realize that he had awakened Sehun, who was now gawking at him from his bed.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Taeyong retreated to his own bed.

“Did… something happen?” Sehun asked, voice thick with sleep.

Taeyong blinked at him. Why was he asking? So that he too could make fun of him? Sehun did not even care.

“No,” Taeyong murmured anyway and drew the blanket over his head.

 

* * *

 

His head quaked, and it felt as though his eyes were knocked out of their sockets when he crashed the ground again. Huffing heavily for air and bathed in sweat, Taeyong glowered up at Jaehyun, who stood towering above him with an annoyed but smug look on his face with an eyebrow arched.

“Get up,” Jaehyun ordered again after besting Taeyong for the sixth time.

Gripping the sword, Taeyong pushed himself back to his feet and faced the jerk. For the past couple of days, Taeyong had been roaming around the school full of dread. Everywhere he turned, he was looking out for someone to jump him and expose him. He waited for Scholar Pemberton to summon him and inform him of his expulsion.

But none of that happened. Jaehyun had not reported. Why?

“If a quill is all that you can hold with a grip in that hand, then you might as well head home right now,” Jaehyun spat, brandishing his sword as he moved around Taeyong. “Oh, wait,” Taeyong heard Jaehyun mutter behind him before he felt Jaehyun’s warm breath on the back of his neck. “A quill isn’t the only thing you can hold with a grip.”

Taeyong shuddered and spun around, glaring at the bastard. “What are you doing?” he asked, heart racing miles per second.

Jaehyun smirked. “Swordplay is all about posture,” he said, dodging the question. “You don’t want to waste too much of your energy by making heavy movements. Get your footing right and firm.”

He drove his sword into the wooden floorboards and left it standing upright before he neared Taeyong. Though Taeyong’s first instinct was to take a step back, he did not retreat any further Jaehyun circled around him and took his position.

“When you are to evade swings,” Jaehyun purred, latching his hands to the sides of Taeyong’s waist. “don’t move your lower body too much. Evade by twisting your upper body.”

Taeyong could hear his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. He glanced around the dojo and swallowed. No one was paying them any attention. His eyes briefly landed on Yuta who was berating Kyungsoo for disappointing him.

“Use your spine,” Jaehyun murmured and Taeyong shivered. Jaehyun drew the knuckles of his fingers along the cleft of Taeyong’s back, all the way to the tailbone.

Taeyong suddenly regretted having taken his shirt off.

“It’s like dancing, really.” He returned his hands to Taeyong’s waist and drove them up and down the sides of Taeyong’s torso. “Bend your body. You’re too stiff.” He then pulled away and faced Taeyong again with a smirk. “Just like how you were the other night.”

Taeyong lifted his sword and charged at Jaehyun.

“Jesus,” Jaehyun rasped, jerking back to dodge a strike, and as soon as his hand found the grip of his sword, he drew it from the floor and blocked Taeyong’s blow. As their blades clashed, Jaehyun flashed a lopsided grin. “You learn _fast_.”

“That’s enough for today,” Master Cay announced when the bell tolled.

Taeyong gripped his jaw, refusing to withdraw his sword from Jaehyun’s.

Jaehyun’s complacency faltered, replaced by something a graver. “Step down, lad,” he said through his teeth.

Taeyong held his sword tighter, snarling at Jaehyun with ferocity. His eyes then wandered to the cross around Jaehyun’s neck and he recalled the other night when Jaehyun was panting against his neck, thrusting into his hand, cursing under his breath.

He pulled away, dropping his sword at last, eyes stinging with furious tears. He was not even sure why he was mad. It was not as though Jaehyun had forced him to do anything. He had done it because he had wanted to. He was a fool.

“Keep training like girls and you will not survive the tournament this year,” Master Cay said before he dismissed the class.

 

* * *

 

“Are you not fond of seared fish?”

Taeyong looked up from his plate that held a dollop of milk curd, a slice of bread, and a few chunks of boiled carrots. Yuta stared back at him without any hint of smile.

“Uh… no,” Taeyong muttered, swallowing the masticated food in his mouth. “No… It’s not… that.”

Yuta did not say anything for a moment. Then at length, he asked, “Can I sit here?”

Taeyong’s eyes widened. No one sat with him at the table he usually occupied. “Did… someone put you up to this?”

There was surprise in Yuta’s expression. “I beg your pardon?”

Taeyong cleared his throat and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I mean, of course. You… can sit here.”

Yuta took his seat on the bench across Taeyong and helped himself to the food laid before him. As he ate in silence, Taeyong forked a nugget of carrot and brought it to his mouth, keeping his gaze on Yuta.

Once Yuta was done with his dinner, he rose without a word and walked away.

Taeyong heaved a sigh. He glanced at the table Sehun was seated at. At his side, Jaehyun tossed a lump of cheese at Sehun’s head. They seemed close.

When Jaehyun’s eyes met Taeyong’s. Smirking, Jaehyun leaned towards Sehun and muttered something into Sehun’s ear. A moment later, Sehun looked up and scanned the Feast Hall. He stopped to glare at Taeyong before he looked back at Jaehyun and told him something.

Taeyong, with a quickening heartbeat, stood up and left the hall, balling his fists at his sides.

He would write a letter to Madshire, he thought as he strode through the hallway.

“Hey, mud-dweller!”

Taeyong came to a halt to momentarily look back at Jaehyun, who was approaching him. Tightening his jaw, he continued to walk away.

“Hoy! Wait.”

“Leave me alone,” Taeyong grumbled.

“I said _wait_ ,” Jaehyun spat, grabbing hold of Taeyong’s arm and halting him. Taeyong growled at Jaehyun and tried to prise his arm free, but to no avail as Jaehyun tightened his grip. “Did you not hear me, cocksucker?”

Taeyong tried to pull back his arm again but when Jaehyun did not release it, his hand flung up to clutch at Jaehyun’s shirt collar. “Why are you doing this?” he mewled, eyes limpid and blurry with tears. “What did I ever do to you?”

Jaehyun looked vacantly at him for a stretch. “Meet me behind the school chapel at the 23rd bell,” he said and freed Taeyong’s arm.

“What?”

Jaehyun dropped his eyes to Taeyong’s hand that was gripping his collar. Gulping the sob in his throat, Taeyong withdrew his hand from Jaehyun’s shirt and frowned.

“You’ll be there,” Jaehyun said and winked an eye before heading back towards the Feast Hall.


End file.
